The Guardians and the Last Dance
by Darkpenn
Summary: We fight for our own. Whatever the odds.


**The Guardians and the Last Dance**

_We fight for our own. Whatever the odds._

_[Author's note: This story concludes the Darkpenn Guardians of the Galaxy collection. The stories will be consolidated and posted in the near future.]_

* * *

Peter, Drax, Groot and Rocket walked quickly into the Jackkirby bar – or what was left of it. Leto, the owner, was doing her best to put the wreckage into some sort of order.

"We got your message, came as fast as we could," said Peter.

"Geez, what a mess," said Rocket, looking around. "Someone really went to town here."

"It was those Tarkine guys," said Leto. "Last night. I was doing good business, everyone having a good time, then this whole troop comes in, maybe fifteen of them. A couple of them start laying into the furniture and the booze and the rest go for the juke box, with clubs and things." She pointed; the juke box had been smashed into very small fragments. "I think that's what made her really mad. She wasn't armed but she took down seven of them, hand-to-hand."

"Er, her who?" said Peter.

"Gamora."

"Huh," said Rocket. "Are we talking about the same Gamora? Green, 'tude, spiky as ... something really spiky?"

"Yeah. What, you didn't know she comes in here every once in a while? At first, it was just to have a drink, but after a while she got a bit looser. Half the time, she'd end up dancing, if someone put a good song on."

"Dancing?" said Peter. "But ... you don't have a stage."

"No, but I have tables. Had. I tell you, that girl could be really good for trade when she got warmed up."

"Greenie ... dancing?" said Rocket.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"What, really?" said Rocket to him. "Damn, the things that happen when I'm not around."

"Where is she now?" said Peter.

"They took her," said Leto. "She was going through them like a dose of salts when this other guy – with the Tarkines but not like them, a dark-skinned guy with a shiny head – steps up with one of those big electro-shock guns. He zaps her. The first time, she gets up and flattens a couple more of the Tarkines. The guy with the gun has to hit her twice more to put her down."

"Yeah, that's greenie alright," said Rocket.

"This dark-skinned fellow," said Drax. "Did he have bright blue eyes?"

"Er, yeah," said Leto. "You know him?"

"Only in the sense that I believed I had ripped his brain out. Not sufficiently, it would seem. And now he is working for Tarkus."

"Oh, that guy," said Peter.

"Well, he seemed to really enjoy putting the whack on Gamora. Like it was some sort of personal grudge. Anyway, once they had finished demolishing the place they wrapped up Gamora and left. Their parting shot was to tell me not to get another juke box. Advice I am likely to ignore, once I'm back on my feet. Pricks.

"You know, Quill, Gamora once told me that she hoped that you and she – "

But the Guardians were gone.

* * *

Gamora came awake with a start, to see the smirking face of Korath the Pursuer. She made a grab for his throat, before she realised that she was chained, spread-eagled, to a wall. Heavy chains, too strong for even her to break.

"My, she really is a feisty one," said someone standing next to Korath. The Emperor.

"Tight-ass, I presume," she said.

"That's Tarkus," he said.

"Have you considered changing it?" she said.

He punched her across the face.

"Emperor!" said Korath. "You should not do that! Please, allow me."

Then he punched her across the face.

She looked at both of them. "Whatever," she said. She looked around. She was on a sort of stage, in a large room, empty – aside from a juke box. "Oh, you have entertainment," she said.

"You misunderstand," said Tarkus. "You are to be the entertainment. For my army. For my men. My many, many men. To teach you a lesson. To teach all who are like you a lesson. And when your body and when your mind and your soul are completely broken, and you beg me for death, I will ... consider it."

"No, it is you who misunderstand," said Gamora. "I spent a year in the dungeons of Thanos. There is nothing you can do to me that has not already been done. If this is all you have in mind, I can only say that you are lacking in imagination. But go ahead. Give it your best shot. In fact, why don't you give me a kiss right now. And I will bite your tongue off."

"Huh," said Tarkus. "Yes, I believe you would. But let us see how clever you are when the first hundred of my men get through with you. That will be tomorrow. In the meantime, you can contemplate the fate that awaits you. And you can meditate on the fact that this monstrosity – " he gestured to the juke box – "will be destroyed as well, as all the others will be. In fact, your death will be the first of a new crusade, a crusade which will cleanse the galaxy of this evil." He turned and walked away, doing his best to flourish his imperial cape.

Korath looked at her.

"I heard you were dead," she said. "Head removed."

He tapped the cybernetic implant in his skull. "It got better," he said. "And I even got an upgrade."

"Huh," she said. "Well, you must consider this moron to be something of a comedown, after working for Ronan."

"Meh," he said. "It's a living. And also the chance to get even with you and your Guardian friends. I just wish they would come for you. This fortress has blaster cannons at every point, and there are hundreds of soldiers in the complex. Your friends would have to be crazy to try to rescue you." He punched her viciously in the stomach, and then walked away.

Alone, Gamora slumped against her chains, feeling the pain of her injuries. She wished she felt as nonchalant about her coming torture as she had suggested to Tarkus. In fact, she realised with a shock that she felt ... afraid. A shudder ran down her spine.

She thought about her time in the dungeons of her adopted father. There were many times, then, when she had hoped for death. And many times, after it, when she had not cared whether she lived or died. There had been, quite simply, no reason to care. Had that made her brave? Or merely cold?

But now she realised she wanted to live. For the Guardians. For her friends. For ... him. And the worst irony was that now, as she understood why, she was going to die. Slowly. In humiliation and pain. _And I never got to dance with him,_ she thought. _Never got to say the words, never got to hear them ..._

But ... what had Korath said? _Your friends would have to be crazy to try to rescue you._

She smiled.

* * *

"So, as you see, we need your help," said Peter to Nova Prime, on the communications screen. "Defences of the Tarkine fortress, layout of the place, troop numbers and weapons, anything you've got. Do you have that?"

"I have it, but I cannot provide it to you," said Nova Prime. "And I cannot sanction an invasion by the Guardians of a member of the Galactic Council. I would prefer a diplomatic solution."

"Yeah, that would really work for greenie," said Rocket.

"If you cannot help us," said Drax, "then we quit. Here, you can have the uniform back." He began to unbuckle the belt of his blue Nova Corps trousers.

"Someone stop him, please!" cried Rocket.

On the screen, Nova Prime held up her hand.

"What I mean," she said, "is that as I am a member of the Galactic Council myself, I cannot officially provide the information you request. However, there might be a member of my staff who occasionally – and entirely without authority – uses our equipment for private communications to your vessel."

"Oh," said Hoover, standing next to Nova Prime. "You know about that, eh?"

"My dear," said Nova Prime to her, "I know about everything." She turned back to the screen. "If it so happened that that staff member happened to append the full schematics and latest intelligence reports of the Tarkine fortress to one of her messages, then I can only say that, well, these quirks of bureaucracy occur from time to time."

There was the tapping of computer keys behind her. Then a message came up on the Guardians' screen. A smiley-face + H. Several documents were attached.

"That girl is dangerous," muttered Rocket, as Peter terminated the connection.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"No, I definitely do not want to hear about it," said Rocket to him.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"How the hell should I know where you can get a bow-tie!?" said Rocket.

Peter was scrolling through the e-pages. He turned to the others.

"Tarkus has a full army in there," he said. "Heavy weapons on the outside but those inside have mainly swords and maces. There's a lot of them. A _lot_. You don't have to come with me if you don't want to."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"No, I don't know what he's talking about either," said Rocket.

"I do not understand you, Quill," said Drax, who had thankfully re-buckled his belt. "Is there an issue for discussion here?"

Peter looked at the others. "No," he said. "I guess there isn't."

* * *

Korath the Pursuer was in the room that controlled the external defences of the fortress, after receiving news of a long-range contact.

"A small ship, not answering hails," said the tech. "On screen now." An image appeared.

"I recognise this vessel," said Korath. "The _Milano_. The Guardians. Destroy it at once."

The blaster cannons opened up, a firestorm of energy bolts. The little ship swerved, dodged – and then took a hit. It went down, smashing into the ground and cartwheeling to a halt.

"I doubt there could be anyone left alive, but send a platoon to check for survivors," he said. "If there are any, I want them alive. I want the green woman to see them die."

He went to the room where Gamora was still chained to the wall.

"I was mistaken," he said to her. "Your friends were foolish enough to attempt an attack. They are dead, or soon will be."

"Uh-huh," said Gamora.

His pocket communicator beeped. "We have found two prisoners," came the voice of an Imperial Monk. "We will bring them to you."

Korath acknowledged the message and then contacted Tarkus, suggesting that he come to see the show. The Emperor arrived in the hall just as the main doors opened. The tree-like creature, his hands – branches – manacled but carrying the small furry creature, injured and unconscious, entered. The tree-thing was pushed from behind by a pair of robed Imperial Monks. There was a platoon of soldiers with them.

"Well done," said Tarkus to the monk in the lead, whose face was hidden behind the hood of his robe. "I would like to reward you for your surface – the chance to go first with the woman, perhaps. What do you say to that?"

"Thanks, but no thanks," said the monk.

Tarkus looked at him. "What is your name, monk?" said the Emperor. "Show me your face."

The monk pulled his hood back.

"I know this man!" cried Korath. "He is ... er ... he is ... Quail!"

"Goddamn," muttered Peter.

"Kill him!" shouted Tarkus.

But the manacles of the tree creature had fallen off, and the little creature had pulled out a pair of smoke grenades. Korath saw the danger. "No, kill that one!" he cried.

The soldiers, confused, started to move one way and then the other. And in their moment of confusion, Rocket threw the grenades into the middle of the troop. Smoke everywhere.

The other monk threw his robes off. "Here, little beast!" Drax said, throwing Rocket his multi-barrelled gun. Then he picked up the two closest soldiers and smashed them together. Groot's arms extended, picking up several soldiers and throwing them into a wall. But scores of soldiers were beginning to run in from the adjoining room.

"Rocket, free Gamora!" said Quill, pulling out his guns and shooting. "Drax, Groot, the door!"

Drax and Groot ran to the heavy door, swinging it closed and lifting the bar into place. On the other side, soldiers began to push against it. But for the moment there was only the Guardians and several dozen soldiers in the room, and Korath and Tarkus.

Rocket aimed at the chains binding Gamora and fired. The chains fell away, although a long length remained attached to the manacle on her left wrist.

"Look out!" she shouted to Rocket. She leaped, taking down two soldiers that had come up behind him. With a series of punches, she sent one down. Then she jumped onto the shoulders of the other, her legs going around his neck. There was a snap as he fell, and she rode him down.

Korath was aiming his bazooka-sized blaster at her, trying to get a clear shot. But then the chain on her wrist whipped out, and wrapped around the barrel. She pulled, and the gun went flying. It skidded along the floor and landed at the feet of Drax.

He picked it up. "I like it," he said. He swivelled, and mowed down a group of soldiers.

Korath drew his long-blade knife. The chain snapped out again. The knife was knocked out of his hand, and went spiralling through the air. There was a _thunk_ as it hit something wooden and lodged there. Groot. Specifically, Groot's butt.

"Whoops," muttered Gamora. But there was no time to apologise: five soldiers were coming for her.

"Gamora!" shouted Peter, as he drew something from the folds of the robe and threw it. She leaped into the air and caught it, and it was out of its sheath before she hit the ground. She turned to face the soldiers.

"Now," she said softly.

She was taking down the last of them when she found herself back-to-back with Peter. They turned to face each other. There was a long, silent moment.

"Oh, for – !" said Rocket. "Quill, even I know that you're supposed to kiss her now, and I'm a racoon!"

"I believe the little beast is right," said Drax.

"I am Groot," said Groot.

So they kissed. In the midst of a battle. With the sound of blood around them. It was a long, passionate kiss, a perfect balance of tenderness and desire. In the history of the galaxy, this was one of the best kisses, perhaps the best of all.

"Okay, that's enough, we need you back in the fight," said Rocket. And then Peter and Gamora were swirling through the battle again, guns and sword. They snatched a smile at each other.

Gamora looked around, to see Tarkus and Korath vanishing through a side door. Peter, Groot, Drax and Rocket were each fighting several opponents.

She said: "Tarkus – "

" – is yours," said Drax.

Peter glanced at her. "Go," he said.

She ran after the Emperor and his mercenary.

The other four Guardians dispatched the last of the soldiers in the room. But there were many, many more outside, and they were ramming at the door with something. The bar across it was already starting to break. The four of them ran to the door and put their shoulders to it, trying to keep it shut.

"Was this the plan?" said Rocket. "You said you had a plan, Quill, but was this it?"

"The plan was to get in and free Gamora," said Peter. "And that is done. So ... I think I deserve some credit for that."

"Your planning processes," said Drax, "need further development."

"I am Groot," said Groot.

"You can say that again," said Rocket.

The door was nearly off its hinges. A couple more blows would do it.

* * *

Tarkus and Korath were hurrying along a series of passages leading to the roof. Behind them, they could hear the footsteps of a dark angel with vengeance on her mind and a sword in her hand. She was gaining on them.

They came to an escape pod. Korath looked at it. "This would only carry one person," he said.

"Then you must stay behind and delay her," said Korath. "Sacrifice yourself for me, the Emperor."

Korath stared at him. "Fuck that," he said. He drew a knife from his belt. "You got yourself into this, you moron, and ... well, that's it."

The footsteps were drawing closer.

* * *

The four of them fell back to the other side of the room. "We can't stop them," said Peter.

"Then ... they can bring it," said Drax, re-cocking the blaster he had inherited from Korath.

"I'm cool with that concept," said Rocket.

Peter re-loaded his guns.

The doors fell and a hundred soldiers, more, surged in.

Rocket hefted his gun. "LET'S ROCK!" he shouted.

* * *

Korath climbed into the pod.

"What ... what do you expect me to do?" said Tarkus.

"I expect you to die," said Korath. "Perhaps with honour, although I would be surprised. But you can take this." He handed Tarkus the knife. Then he closed the hatch of the pod.

Tarkus hammered on the little window. Korath flipped him the finger. Then he activated the engines, and in a few moments the pod was in the air and away.

Tarkus looked at the knife, and then at the woman in front of him. She knocked the knife out of his hand.

"If it was Peter Quill you were facing, he would no doubt say something witty or noble," she said. "Make a reference to Kevin Bacon, perhaps. Say something about the failure of your plan to take the music away. But you are not facing him, you are facing me. So ... "

* * *

Firing and punching, trying to stem the tide surging around them.

"Rocket," said Peter, "how many bullets have you got left?"

"Three," said Rocket. "And I should probably tell you that-hand-to-hand is not my greatest strength."

Groot picked up his friend and placed him on his shoulder. Groot was already missing his right arm, but he extended his branches on the other side and swept a group of soldiers away.

"I'm almost out too," said Peter.

Drax's blaster had emptied a long time ago, and now he was fighting with his blades and his fists. But soldiers were swarming onto him, stabbing with swords and swinging their maces.

"Men of Tarkine!" came a voice. It was Gamora. She had leaped onto the stage. She held the head of Tarkus aloft. "Your false prophet has failed! Your Emperor is dead! You have nothing further to fight for!"

One of the soldiers, in front of Peter, stopped in mid-thrust. He looked at Gamora, at what she held, and then at Peter.

"What can I tell you," said Peter to him. "When the lady is right, she's right."

The man paused. Then he threw down his sword. So did the man next to him. And then they all did.

"Go home," said Peter. "And ... have a good life. Enjoy yourselves."

Slowly, silently, the men began to file out. Finally, only the Guardians stood in the room.

There was a groan, and then Drax crashed to the ground. He was covered in blood, and bleeding from a number of wounds. The others rushed to him, and knelt beside him.

"It grows dark, and I grow weak," he said. "Please ... Quill ... please find the donut woman Memi ... tell her that I am sorry I did not call her. I ... was shy ... and afraid ... and I lost her number when I washed my hand ... "

"Oh, this is unbelievable," said Rocket. " 'It grows dark, and I grow weak'!? What, did you get that from the back of a cereal packet!? Most of the blood on you isn't even yours, you know."

"I think he is right," said Gamora, looking more closely at Drax's wounds. "This one here is little more than a cut, for example."

"No, I am sure that most of this blood is mine," said Drax, looking at himself.

"Thirty per cent, tops," said Rocket.

"No, at least seventy percent," said Drax.

"Forty, maybe."

"Sixty."

"Fifty, and that's my final offer."

"Very well, then fifty," said Drax.

"Which means you are probably not going to die," said Peter.

"Huh," said Drax. "You know, I think you are right."

"Which means you will have to find Memi yourself, and apologise to her and then see what happens," said Gamora.

"And what might happen?" said Drax.

"Who knows?" said Gamora. She looked at Peter. Their hands found each other.

They helped Drax to his feet. Groot picked up the juke box, miraculously untouched, with his remaining arm.

"Good idea, tree creature," said Drax. "We could use some more choices. By the way, did you know you have a knife in your butt?"

"That certainly has nothing to do with me," said Gamora.

They started to walk back to where Ship was hidden, in a valley some distance from the Tarkine fortress.

"I'm kind of sorry to lose the _Milano_," said Peter. "But maybe the Xandar techs can put it back together again, even the auto-pilot."

"The auto-pilot was a stick and some tape," said Drax.

Groot pointed to the stump of his right arm. "I am Groot," he said.

"I don't know if it will grow back in time for your date with Hoover!" said Rocket. "Damn, the stupid questions you ask, man! Anyway, women dig scars, you know."

"No we don't," said Gamora.

As they reached Ship, a Xandar vessel landed. "That'll be Ms Diplomatic Solution," said Rocket. "A day late and a unit short."

Nova Prime and Hoover emerged. Hoover looked at Groot and did the hair-twirling thing. She smiled. So did Groot.

Gamora was still holding the head of Tarkus. Nova Prime raised an eyebrow.

"Souvenir," said Gamora, with a shrug. "I will give it to a bartender I know, and she can put it in a bottle and keep it on the counter."

"Well," said Nova Prime. "This whole incident, up to and including the ... unsavoury ... demise of a member of the Galactic Council will need to be thoroughly reviewed by a professional and independent body. Hoover, draw up a draft memo calling for the general public to suggest names for a panel to draw up preliminary terms of reference for a fact-finding committee, which will begin inquiries at some time to be determined later."

"Yes, ma'am," said Hoover, making a note on her padd. "If I have it on your desk by the end of next week, will that be alright?"

"No rush," said Nova Prime. "When you get to it."

Peter could not help but smile. The Guardians began to go into Ship.

"Where are you going now?" said Nova Prime.

"I don't know," said Peter. "Wherever the road takes us."

"Which is exactly as it should be," said Gamora.

END (but to know what happens later, read on)

* * *

**What Happens Later**

Some years later, Peter and Gamora retire from the Guardians. They go to Terra, and live in Colorado, where no-one minds about Gamora's green colour. They open a small music store, and have several children, whom Gamora teaches to dance. They are happy.

Drax and Memi have a number of donut-related adventures. They are happy.

Hoover joins the Guardians, first as an administrative assistant, and later, after a peculiar encounter with a solar flare that gives her some sort of superpower, as a member. She and Groot maintain an ongoing relationship, although no-one knows exactly what they do or how they do it, and no-one wants to ask. However, several times Hoover remarks that Groot is "a good listener".

Nova Prime eventually steps down from her position in Xandar Central Administration. She is last seen getting into a caravan-type ship with a blue-skinned man. Looked pretty happy about it.

Cosmo the Space Dog joins the Guardians, handing over the role of Governor of Knowhere to Rhomann Dey. In his first mission, he saves Rocket, or Rocket saves him, something like that. He notes that "this could be the start of a beautiful friendship".

Rocket continues to be a member of the Guardians, several times refusing to take the leadership role on the basis of: "what, do you think I'm nuts?" It is noted, however, that he sometimes vanishes for substantial periods: speculation as to why ranges from recreational bounty hunting to an interest in watercolour painting. One way or another, he appears to be as happy as a racoon can be.

END AND AMEN


End file.
